


unbound

by charizona



Category: UnREAL (TV)
Genre: F/F, Sex, sex?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 19:49:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7477572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charizona/pseuds/charizona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Co-creators. Co-executive producers. Co-showrunners. Co-everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	unbound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kenyarosewater](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenyarosewater/gifts).



> SUGGESTION::: listen to Two Weeks by FKA twigs on repeat while listening.  
> CONTEXT::: set during(?) casualty and is kind of an AU of that episode. rachel doesn't fuck coleman and quinn doesn't call booth.

Magic. That’s what they were supposed to be. Between seasons, Quinn had imagined it all; Rachel was going to take over the reigns to the empire that Quinn built and Quinn was going to sit back and reap the benefits.

Co-creators. Co-executive producers. Co-showrunners. Co- _ everything. _

And as much as she was mad at Rachel for fucking all of that up, she was furious at Jeremy. His dick felt smaller than she’d imagined, and the twist of pain across his face when she gripped him through his jeans, growling under her breath about not being so nice next time, was frankly arousing. If only Rachel were here.

No, Booth. 

He was around here somewhere. Quinn stalked away from Jeremy’s trailer, leaving him on his knees, and wondered, not for the first time, what Rachel ever saw in him. Rachel had been happy, once, and Jeremy had made her happy. But this show had ruined her.

But this show had also made her the happiest she’d ever been. Quinn had seen to that.

Booth caught her in the foyer. “There you are,” he said with his perfect accent and his stupidly handsome face. Quinn stretched onto her toes to kiss him, and even though they’d only known each other a short time, he already seemed to know her. Concerned etched across his face. “Are you all right?”

“Oh, yeah,” she said, then, “No. But it’s nothing to worry about. Just the show.”

He nodded, like he understood. She hadn’t told him about Rachel. No one knew, except immediate Everlasting family. 

“Listen,” she said, “I’ve got to take care of a couple things here.”

“Of course. Call me later?” He smiled at her like he’d been smiling all day; it was a kind of smile reserved for people whose father hadn’t just died, whose best producer hadn’t just gotten beat up (forget the fact that he didn’t know about that), and whose day hadn’t turned to shit when she’d gotten that phone call in the car.

He kissed her on the corner of the mouth. He left her standing in the foyer. Her shoulders dropped as soon as he was out of sight. 

She took a breath. 

And then she was Quinn again. God, this crush was making her weak.

There wasn’t much to do while Rachel and Coleman were in Alabama, but at least Jay and Madison were making the most of it. She watched the shit show from the monitors, chewing on the inside of her cheek. She could use a lot of this. 

She sank into her chair, deflating. She wanted to go back to the good days, when her and Rachel were at the helm of this ship. She’d prefer that to this. She might even give up Booth, if it meant that Rachel was sane and she was in charge and Coleman was invisible. She wanted her name in lights, but she was only getting a producer credit right now. 

Last season, she was the showrunner. 

Cue the elimination ceremony. Cue the tears. Cue the end of the racist. Cue the ratings drop.

Rachel started this, and Rachel got her good TV in Alabama. 

Waggerstein found her there, her head tucked into her palm. She’d moved from the chair to the couch. 

_ Have you ever asked yourself why you care so much about that girl? _

The crazy paid psych was going a different route than what Quinn’s mind was taking; she wanted Quinn to snatch Booth up as fast as she could. She thought Quinn’s pussy was getting dry. 

Maybe she was right. Quinn didn’t say that to her, but she could be. Not about Booth, but about some of it. Why did she care about Rachel? She ran her thumb over her iPhone screen. Darius was back, Rachel would be, too. Probably all over Coleman, if whatever went down in Alabama was any indication.

Quinn knew Rachel too well. 

Last season, Jeremy’s trailer always rocked like hell after Rachel produced the fuck out of an episode. Producing made Rachel  _ wet _ , and Quinn…

Quinn needed Rachel to know she cared.

She stalked out of the room, heels ricocheted across the floor as she walked. She glimpsed Coleman in the monitor room alone. So where was Rachel?

In her trailer.

Rachel flinched when Quinn came in, scrambling to cover her arms. She pulled her hoodie back on, but not quick enough that Quinn didn’t see the bruises all over her skin. Quinn came in, shutting the door behind her. “You’re an idiot.”

“Thanks,” Rachel remarked.

“And I mean that lovingly,” Quinn said, coming closer. She ignored the fact that Rachel inched away from her, avoiding her gaze. “I don’t say that enough, Rachel, but you don’t listen to me.”

Quinn grabbed Rachel’s wrist. She rubbed her thumb across the tattoo, still healing. Money. Dick. Power.

“I meant what I said on the phone,” Quinn said. “I care about you. Even when I yell at you, even when you go behind my back and kick me in the ass.”

“I’m sorry,” Rachel said. She shifted her hand, weaving her fingers so they intertwined with Quinn’s. “I just felt like,” she stopped, looking down at their hands, “like you weren’t letting me do my own thing. But Coleman’s not that bad, really.”

“You know,” Quinn said softly, “people get driving permits for a reason. They still have to drive around with their parents for a while before they can drive alone.”

“Are you saying I’m a fifteen year old who can’t drive?”

“I’m saying,” Quinn argued, smiling, “that you’re learning. You’re good, but you’re learning. I don’t want you to get caught up.”

The unspoken  _ like I did  _ was there. Rachel squeezed Quinn’s hand and held her gaze. Quinn cleared her throat and stood up, slipping her hand out from Rachel’s. “I should go, then. I know you probably have plans.”

Rachel grabbed her hand, stood up with her, and said, “Quinn.”

Just her name.

Quinn turned around. Rachel stepped closer, looked briefly at her lips, and back at her eyes. “I’ve kind of missed you.”

Rolling her eyes, Quinn shook her head. “Don’t get sappy on me, Goldberg.”

“We can’t just get matching tattoos and then never talk again,” Rachel pointed out, still holding Quinn’s hand. 

It was then that Quinn noticed the shadow of a bruise across Rachel’s cheek. She reached for it, settling her hand on Rachel’s face with a gentle touch. “I’m killing him.”

“Just blacklist him,” Rachel suggested, leaning slightly into Quinn’s touch.

_ Have you ever asked yourself why you care so much about that girl? _

Quinn would lie, if you asked her, and tell you that Rachel leaned in and close the distance. But really, it was her who tightened her light grip on Rachel’s cheek, curling her fingers around the line of Rachel’s jaw, tilting Rachel’s head just a bit, and pulled Rachel in.

And Rachel, to her credit, mumbled a sound of surprise against Quinn’s lips, but fell into the kiss like snow onto the grass. At first, it was just a mere press of the lips, but then Rachel parted her own, then Quinn’s, hungry for contact and something she had yearned for but never put into words or feeling. 

Quinn’s hands slipped from Rachel’s face, down her neck and to her shoulders, fisting into the extra fabric of her hoodie as their lips grew more frantic. They stumbled back into the counter and Rachel almost yelped, breaking the kiss.

“Okay?” Quinn asked, not really caring, as she unzipped Rachel’s hoodie. She hadn’t moved this fast in years and she buzzed with energy. All Rachel did was nod, helping Quinn as she shrugged out of her hoodie. The sight of the bruises sobered Quinn and she took a moment to ghost her fingertips across the mottled blue and purple flesh, across Rachel’s upper arms and wrists and shoulders.

“Are you sure blacklisting is enough?” She looked at Rachel, taking in her flushed cheeks and dilated pupils.

“I’d rather be dead than blacklisted,” Rachel affirmed, and then she wrapped a hand around Quinn’s neck, tugging her in for another bruising kiss.

The burn that tore through Quinn when Rachel pressed her hips into Quinn’s was unlike anything she’d ever felt; she silently took back all the homophobic shit she’d said for the last two seasons.

“Are we doing this?” Rachel mumbled against her lips, her breath hot.

Quinn nodded, because she couldn’t say  _ yes _ out loud. That made it too real. She helped Rachel shed her shirt, and she listened to Rachel fumbled with the zipper of her own jeans. She let Rachel guide her hand between Rachel’s legs and it was almost like touching herself, except she responded to Rachel; Rachel’s gasps, Rachel’s grip on the back of her neck (Rachel’s nails digging into the base of her scalp), and Rachel’s teeth sinking into her bottom lip told her if she was doing the right thing.

She fell into it, sinking her fingers in deep again and again, pushing herself into Rachel. And she realized, as Rachel’s leg came up and wrapped around Quinn’s waist and pulled her closer, that for the first time, Rachel was taking out her producer hormones on Quinn and not some guy she was fucking. 

And Quinn fucked her harder.

“Fuck,” Rachel groaned, grinding against the palm of Quinn’s hand, coming undone against her. She wasn’t kissing her anymore, just breathing hard into Quinn’s neck, and when Quinn kissed her neck she said Quinn’s name, loud, and when Quinn pushed into her faster, she said  _ oh fuck me, Quinn, yeah  _ and Quinn liked every single sound Rachel made.

And when Quinn curled her fingers, Rachel tightened around then and shuddered in her arms and came for a second time. She kissed Quinn with two hands on Quinn’s neck, with sweat on her forehead, and never had Quinn felt so involved in the process of fucking, but holy shit did she like it.

_ Why do you care so much about that girl? _

Quinn wiped hair from Rachel’s forehead.

She loved her. She’d say it, in the right circumstances, but not right now. 

She cared because Rachel was her, once upon a time. Maybe she was narcissistic, but she didn’t care. Together, they were magic. They would be magic again, if they got through this shitstorm. 

Quinn leaned in and kissed Rachel, long and languid. “I’m going,” she said. Rachel nodded, still reeling from moments before.

As Quinn was leaving, just as she reached the doorway, Rachel said, “Money, dick, power.”

“Maybe we should change a line?” Quinn suggested, smirking.


End file.
